Annoying Little Ghost
by AliceInBloom
Summary: He wasn't sure on how to react, but be damned if he was going to let her know on how utterly annoying she was to him.
1. Chapter 1

**AN; Hello all! So ah, I was suddenly inspired by a Batman fanfiction that I had read awhile back. But instead of trying to do my own way with the Joker or another character for that series, I was all like 'Why not Adrian from Watchmen?'! And this weird little thing came to existence! So er, please tell me what you think of it and maybe I'll continue :D**

**DISCLAIMER; If I owned, I would making a seqeul thinger to the movie AND comics.**

I noticed the voice back after the meeting with the other costume heroes back in '66. It came to me when I had been holding the burned chart in between my fingers, when my plan started to form. And it was then that I thought that maybe I had created a voice to calm myself down of the inner turmoil that would later plague for me years. It turned out to be absolutely preposterous. How could I be going mad when things were just coming together for me? Back then it hadn't been the right time!

And so the voice was blocked.

But several years later, the voice was louder. It was yelling at something, or more or less, at the television when the Keane Act was passed. Startled at first, I had looked around cautiously to try and see with whom it could _actually_ be. When I saw that it was no one once again, the voice was ignored.

Really, it wasn't until around the '80s that odd things seemed to happen around my person. Little things always seemed to be out of place in my office and in my bedroom. Little notes started to appear on my bedroom door, tooth brush in the mouth wash. I thought that maybe I had a little prankster in my cleaning staff. So I called a meeting.

No one had done anything.

None of them had lied.

Then, on December 4th, 1984 _she_showed up within my vision. I had been checking my appearance for an interview with a hot new show then, brushing any stray strands of hair out of my face before I was called out. But my eyes caught something in the back of my room. Turning sharply towards it, I thought a fangirl had (once again) managed to get into my room somehow without security knowing. Turning around, she disappeared but within the mirror I saw her clearly.

She was fairly strange looking.

This fact was much more apparent when I could see the wall through her fairly tall form.

Her eyes widened as I looked right back at her.

"You... you can see me now?," I heard her whisper. "OH holy crap! I've been _trying to do this since 1966!_ Can you really see me Adrian?"

Taking in her appearance, I could tell, for some odd reason, that she was _not_ from the time I had matured in. A large, green shirt with several randomly coloured skulls lay about it haphazardly, along with a pair of tight jeans that seemed to be at her hips. Her hair as well, seemed to defy my time then as well. Very long in the front, very short in the back. She just didn't seem to fit.

She was gone then as the producer came in to escort me to the set.

To say the least, I was fairly certain that I had just had a moment of insanity. But I did not show my discomfort while being interveiwed.

It was not until the night of the Comedian's death that she showed up for good.

"I'm not going to leave you alone now!," she growled at me. "What you did was even _worse_ then what _he_ was able to do! Don't think I won't let you get away with it!"

I think I was glad then, that no one could see her annoying little presence. Although I was highly annoyed that this girl was here to stay but I never let her see or feel the emotion. It would just make things even worse for us both.


	2. Chapter 2

She was poking me.

The cold tip of her ghostly finger, prodding at my neck. It made me shiver, flinch at times but soon I lost almost complete feeling there after about several minutes. Sighing. I rub at the bridge of my nose and glare up at her. She seemed to be just a tad amused at my expression as the grin upon her pale face seemed to widen at my openness with her.

"Really, must you do that?," I asked her calmly. "You are going to get nowhere with that."

"Oh? I must of gotten somewhere Blondie since yer glarin' up a storm!," she then grinned, pats my face and began to float around the room. "And like I said, I'll do _everything_ in my power to make your life hell until people figure this out."

Holding back an eye roll, I go back to the paper I had been working on. Or rather, the letters I needed to tend to. Hot utterly trivial these questions were... Even the several from President Nixon. Typing up a quick reply, I then look up at the clock. Thank the gods that my work day was about to end for the night. Oh yes, I was busy with my own plan by the end of the year, but for now I was going to attempt to relax.

What? Even the smartest man on Earth needs a break. Sighing, I push back from my desk and stand up, going to the large window. I can remember just a few days that Edward Blake had died by hands, that Rorschach had been telling me of a good lead on his killer. Such a pity that he was so right and yet so damned close. But he wasn't close. Who would ever suspect Adrian Veidt of murder?

She was humming.

Her voice was soft, the words to an unnamed song on her lips. And I could see her in the windows floating around the office. Though I kept my eyes trained on a particular spot, I could see her face. It was strange, how utterly nostalgic she looked as the tune left her mouth. And upon further inspection, she was wiping at her eyes then and 'stood' back up and glared at me.

"Ugh, do you _have_ to stare at me Adrian?," she sniffed.

"What make you believe I would stare you _Catherine_," smiling calmly I turned around and once again, found myself freezing.

In her sadness (I would assume), her clothing had changed to a strange combination of black and silver, a choker around her lily white neck that gleamed with a--- what in the world? Was that pendant purple? Blinking, I looked away, back to the window, to the city that seemed to be weeping for the death of Edward Blake, the Comedian. I was as well, inside. Edward had been a strange father figure to all of the Watchmen. He knew the world. A big joke.

"You should sleep Adrian," she said from behind me. "Even though the world and this room can't tell it, I can. You're exhausted."

Catherine was right about that small fact. She was right about a lot of things at times, even though they were simple things. Walking away from the window I then gathered the paper work I could work upon later, most likely when I woke up tomorrow. Putting the papers in the leather suit case, I then picked it up and went on my way to the elevator just down the hallway. As per usual the custodian who did my office came just on time, like he always did, and as per usual, I held the elevator door as the older man shuffled past me, down the hall, to my office.

He was humming 'Carmen' from Habenera.

Holding the door just a bit longer, I then watched as he straightened out his hunched back and he seemed to know I was still there, he began to sing. The voice of a lower class angel came to me. Catherine was yelling "Bravo! Bravo! Beautiful!" and she didn't even know that he was a little off key. Hiding a smile I then went in and pushed the button to take me down to the garage. There, my sleek black caddilac awaited for me to drive it home to my pent house, which most likely had Bubastis within it, waiting for me to come home.

Catherine was humming, dancing in a lazy way besides me in the elevator. Her clothing had changed again. This time a sleek black dress, the right side of the skirt rising to her knee, black stilettos upon her feet, as she swirled around me. I could swear I could hear a faint clicking on the linolium floor.

"Oh! I just love that song! It's so beautiful even if I don't know on what it's about...," she swirled again, her dress flaring out.

She then stops and looks up at me. Her eyes are pale just like her entire body. I swear that if she was alive that I would be looking at a dazzling pale blue or even a grey.

She says, "Adrian, even though I've been sent here to make your life hell somehow... what's your favorite opera song?"

Simple, I tell her, it's Carmen.

"No, really, what is it?"

I tell her again as we descend to my car. The guards nod a good night. "Watch out," they say, "I hear Rorschach is more off his rocker since that Blake guy died." I tell them everything will be alright, Rorschach wasn't a main problem. They believe me and their horrible New Yorker voices shush themselves.

As I got into my car and begun my drive home. I usually stayed in the small room I had had created for myself within my own business, but the appearance of my little 'ghost' had me worried at this point. She was either my conscious come to existence in a form of a teenaged girl or she was literally a little guardian from hell. Not as if I thought I was going mad, but one had to take some type of precaution against this type of thing. No one needed to see me talking to air.

Once again she was humming as she sat besides me. Tuning her out, I then looked over the events that had happened within the past forty-eight hours. I had gotten rid of Edward Blake, people were in a small, shocked frenzy that the man had somehow gotten thrown out of a plexiglass window. What most people don't see about those windows though is that every one of them has a weak point. I had guessed where it may be and as it happened, Blake was thrown easily out and onto the street.

Coming to the small suburban area I had put my fairly large house, I pulled within it's gates and went inside. This one house that the staff did not stay at twenty-four seven. They came once a week and dusted. Two times a week unless I stayed within it's confines. Going inside through the garage, I went through the kitchen and straight for my bathroom. There I blatantly stripped.

Catherine let out a shriek then. Ignoring her once again I turned on the water and looked in the mirror. Bags lay under my eyes, skin semi-oilly. How utterly annoying it was to have to take care of ones appearance. But how the world viewed you every single day, you had to take care of yourself. No matter how badly you looked either. Seeing the steam roll out, I stepped inside and as the water hit my body... I held back a sigh of pleasure. The tension in my body left for the time being as I then began to clean myself thoroughly.

What most of the world didn't know, nor did many in particular, is that the guilt that rang through my head was fairly strong. But this wasn't first time that I had killed a fellow human being. In my line of work as a vigilante I had killed one other. It had been accident of course, but it made me rethink everything back then. Life was so short and could be ripped away by just a simple hand maneuver. A simple shove. A blow to the head. A shot to the chest. A severe allergic reaction. Natural causes.

But Edward Blake needed to be killed. He had figured out my plan. He had found out that the most brilliant minds of the entire world were creating a monster to destroy New York. I couldn't have him blowing this for myself and for my plan of instant world peace. The entire world would, in time, believe that beast I had created was an alien attack. The stupid people of the world would make peace and stop the worthless fighting.

I would secretly be a hero.

And no one would know but myself.

Jon Osterman, aka Doctor Manhattan, may figure it out as well, but his own power was slowly muddling him up on what was going to happen within the year. The simple task of asking him to make me a machine infused with his powers was helping this. This was such an easy task that no one even suspected it at the base where he and Laurie Juspeczyk resided at.

Rorschach may figure it out as well, but who in their right mind would believe a psychotic little man who never shows his face?

Washing myself then, soap frothing over my body as the water beat it straight off, I made my mind blank. Stark white. Clean. No death, no plans, no Catherine, no Watchmen. But since reality is a horror, it was back in just a few moments as I laid myself down on the plush matress. _Catherine_ was sitting upon my stomach, her cold, bum upon her stomach, her face close to my own.

"You blocked me out," she murmured. "You do that often you know. It's kind of annoying. I like your thoughts, they're organized."

She pushed herself, one small hand pressing against my chest to push position herself next me. Shivering lightly, I looked over at her. Her clothing had changed to that of a simple white nightgown, a Victorian styled one. The points of her hair were pulled back into a small, pointed pony tail.

"But, even though I like how organized you are Adrian, I still need to make your life hell. It's my job you know."

Something in me became curious then. Reaching out, I placed a hand near her. Coldness met me as I then settled it upon her shoulder then. She was almost solid to the touch. Surprised, I let my hand wander to her arm before pulling back.

"Wha--...?"

"Goodnight Catherine." Turning over then, I closed my eyes and felt myself go into a light slumber. "Bother me in the afternoon."


	3. Chapter 3

"The way I used to live wasn't healthy. I just stared at the computer screen all day and didn't do much." She sighs and floats through my chest. "Ma and Pa told me if I didn't stop my little Internet addiction, they'd send me straight to boot camp."

Looping through a cherry tree in the dome, her dark hair covers her face. A sigh goes through her ghostly lips. She says, "And when it happened, I ran away. I went to go live my cousins in Alabama. They didn't have any computers or high tech stuff because you know, they were hicks, you know? What _they_ had was the love I always wanted from my parents." Smiling, she swerves around my head. "They took me for who they knew I was."

Rubbing behind Bubastis' ear, I raise a brow. If my staff were watching me at this current moment, they would only notice my head turn lightly and think that maybe, just maybe, I was observing the butterflies. Which I was in a sense, but Catherine was my main objective. In the past few days and weeks that she had bothering me, her body was beginning to become more solid. I faintly wondered if she could be caught on tape.

"A spoiled little brat that just wanted to be loved like a regular person."

Taking out a Polaroid, I tell her to pose for me, I want to do an experiment. She stops and looks at me funny, but she does what I ask for. Doing several funny little poses, I snap away. And for those few minutes of waiting for the pictures to develop, we're both surprised that she shows up as a bright smudge within the photo's.

"It is interesting, Catherine, how you say you are supposed to make my life hell... and yet you talk to me civilly. So civilly in fact, one would think you were sweet on me."

She sputters, looking up from the fanned out photos. She says, "And one would think your crazy, talking to thin air."

But the air before me had a glare in the camera, I tell her as I pick up the photos, stashing them in my sports jacket. Standing from my spot I make my way out and to the television room. With a click from a rather large remote, they buzz to life. Twenty different voices, all speak with a universal language. Human. They had gone from Edward Blake to how the United States and the Soviet Union were once again going to a war. World War Three.

Catherine hums in displeasure but stays silent none the less. Bubastis is besides me then. Reaching down, I pet her beautiful, furry head. I remember the day when I had made her possible. Like a proud parent as she came from the womb, I had picked up the gooey mass of fur and dubbed the beautiful little creature my own. I remember hand feeding her, washing her, clapping in jubilation at her finding the litter box... Such a brilliant lynx. My beautiful queen.

xXxXx

Pulling her towards myself, her cold body pressed up against my own, I swirl us around. Her clothing had changed to that of a long gown, a dangerously low cut, a faint purple tint. In just a few hours of being in Karnak and she had made it possible for her body to become whole. Or rather, she was solid enough for the both of us to touch.

"I always liked Rorschach more than you," she says, looking up at me. "He knows how fucked up the world can be."

Spinning her out then, skirt billowing, I then forced her back in harshly, her back to my chest, arms around her possessively. She gasped then, grey eyes widening. For myself to be so rough and passionate... it was always such a shocker to women.

"But does he know that history is repeating itself," We slid to the left, take two steps back, twirl. "I bet he doesn't know that fact."

"Common knowledge would allow one to see that it does on a regular basis."

xXxXx

She went silent after that and for a few hours, planned out on how she could change the plans that could potentially be happening within the coming months. But it was hard trying to trick Adrian Veidt. He was one of the most clever men she had ever the displeasure of 'gaurding'. How in the world had she gotten stuck with him anyway?

More or less, this only happened because of what she had done.... Beetlejuice had been right about the dead life. She hadn't commited suicide or anything, but apparently her death had been considered one. Personally, asking God to kill her was _not_ what she wanted, but after mumbling it and getting into that car accident had gotten her in this situation.

Gabriel, aka 'The Boss', had come to her right after her death and gave her an instant assignment. Too bad it was to guard over Adrian Veidt. Right back on the meeting, in 1966, she had been assigned to him. Confused as to why she had been shackled to him, she asked Gabriel as to why this was happening.

"In the end, he's going to be the loneliest man on the entire planet. He'll have everything and yet nothing. Simple as that. He needs a guardian. You fit the bill on what he needs."

Still not understanding it, she went along with it. She made sure he got what he needed, got the little voice in the back of his pretty head to tell him to _not_ do something stupid. But during that time, she began to get feelings for he man that could not see her. Feel her. The emotion was so strong that she had been able to make herself visible for him, in just that split second before he went out for the world to gawk at him.

Then he did the ultimate crime to her. Murder. The killing of an already broken man. And it was on the eve of Edward Blake's death that she got herself to be fully visible to him. Anger and disappointment. It was all she could feel as she began to bother him like she did. Make him sweat in a meeting, rest on his back with her cold, unfeeling body. But he was charming.

And now she was watching him work on a painting. It was kind of funny how it turned out to be a Utopia. His ultimate goal. One that she was going to ruin somehow. He didn't deserve to create a peace that this Earth didn't deserve. Because humans were selfishly, stupid beings that needed to be put in their place.

"Catherine, we are going to go home now. I would keep up if you do not wished to be dragged like a puppet again." He smiled that charming smile, with those eyes that never lit up.

But none-the-less, she grumbled and floated towards him. "Stop reminding me of that you sparkly, purple bastard!"

Good gods, Gabriel was going to give her an ear-full when he figured out on what she was doing. It was against the rules to be bothering the one you guarded. The one you wished would drop dead because you wanted him to be with you... Or the other way around. To become a human being again and touch him properly. Reaching out with a hand, Catherine attempted to touch him on the shoulder... And he moved to grab another pallet of paint from one of his servants. Frowning, the woman sat on thin air and just watched him paint.

So serene and yet troubled. He was thinking but it was a haze to her as she, herself, spaced out to think. She had lied to him earlier today. He had wanted to know a piece of her life and she had _lied_. But in the past few years that what she had planned...


End file.
